Insufficient talent, Insufficient emotion
by Musemims
Summary: Juvia is a violinist since age 4. Passion. Gray is a violinist since age 5. Child Prodigy. (Gruvia AU)
1. Musical talent

_Musical talent._

 _Some are born with perfect pitch, great rhythm._

 _She yearned to have the talent some had._

 _The only thing she had was passion._

 **xoxoxo**

 _Musical talent._

 _He was born with it._

 _He didn't want it._

 _The only thing he had was talent._

 **xoxoxo**

"Juvia, honey, you're going to be late for the first round," her mother commented as the bluenette fiddled with her violin.

She had been playing since she was 4 years old, but never been in any competitions, never went to a music school, never took it _that_ seriously. She just loved playing the violin, and enjoyed hearing the sound it made when she fully immersed herself in performing. Her violin now had belonged to her for about 2 years now, since the day she finally got her full-sized instrument.

In exactly 45 minutes, she would be backstage at the Magnolia Hall, waiting for her number to be called. She was going to her first ever competition, clueless, nervous, and semi-confident.

 _All you have to do is enjoy it._

She was number 35.

 **xoxoxo**

He slowly sat up from his bed as his alarm signified 40 minutes until the start of the first round.

He had been playing violin since he was 5. Child prodigy, naturally talented, musically gifted, he had heard it all. He didn't think he was special. He felt used. His violin wasn't a prized possession. It was an object of terror. He didn't enjoy playing. He didn't love to go up on stage. He didn't like winning 1st place.

But he continued, because it was the only thing he had. His parents were violinists, his grandparents were renowned pianists, his sister was a master at the piano.

In exactly 38 minutes now, he would be standing alone behind those curtains, agonizingly waiting for the audience to see his face, his violin, a familiar competitor. The parents of other participants would sigh sorrowfully, the judges would pay extra attention, and his teacher would watch from the seats, unforgiving of mistakes, unforgiving for any emotion. Not letting any smile let through.

 _Technique. Technique. Technique is all you need._

He was number 36.

 **xoxoxo**

The repertoire for the first selection was Paganini's Caprice No.1, a virtuoso piece for violinists. There was a lot of changing strings, different bowings, tons of spiccato. It _was_ a difficult piece after all. For Juvia, it wasn't the ideal romantic piece, but she was capable of enjoying herself while playing it.

Number 35 was standing behind the curtains, watching over the girl before her play. She played completely in rhythm, with great technique for the first half, bouncing her bow accurately on the strings. She played accurately, but not perfect. She played with dynamics, but no emotion. Juvia stole a glance at the judges. Some tried hard to cover up their boredom, and others didn't even bother. One judge actually payed attention and was jotting things down, but you could tell the audience as a whole was asleep.

 _Breathe_

The piece over, the audience clapped, the performer bowed.

The backstage staff replaced the number to 35, and it was her cue to go up.

 _Breathe_

The violinist walked to the center of the stage, hands shaking, goosebumps on her arms.

The audience fell silent, all attention on the blue-haired violinist in the center of the stage. She flipped her hair back, placing her violin on her shoulder and slowly brang up her bow to the strings.

 _Go_

She breathed in sharply as she lifted up her bow, starting the piece. There was no turning back, no restarting, no forgetting the piece. No walking off stage because of nerves, no rewind. The spiccato wasn't her strong suit, but she was able to keep it up. She started off boring and technical, careful and nervous. The high notes were perfectly in pitch, the chords perfectly in tune. Everything was perfect, but it was boring. It wasn't fun to play. This piece was hard on an 18 year old like her, but she couldn't bear playing it like this. About to hit the part with the legato and then the series of chords, she stopped her bow.

 _Breathe_

She took another breath, slowed her tempo for the legato and the chords. She accentuated the beautiful bowing and the pleasing series of chords. She had 2 minutes to amaze the audience.

 _Restart_

She didn't stop her bow this time when she entered the last theme. She played the spiccato soft and sweet, but fast. Terribly fast. Her fingers moved along the fingerboard, adrenaline coursed through her body. She felt the audience's tension increase, all eyes on her.

 **xoxoxo**

Number 36 watched the girl play from behind, trying to hide the amazement from his own face. The way she moved, the way she carried herself onstage. It was innocent, purely to have fun. To amaze the audience. The judges wouldn't let her pass to the second round. It was too "fun". It was too "unfaithful to the composer".

She ended the piece, the audience roared, and the judges sighed. Number 36 hadn't realized that that performance had left a deep impression in his seemingly unemotional heart.

 _You cheesy idiot,_ he thought to himself as he walked on stage. As he thought, the audience knew his name in the program, the judges smiled at the familiar face. Audience's favourite. Everyone's hope for the future of violinists. It was too much on a 19 year old.

He had to play it right.

Boring.

Accurate.

"Perfect".

He walked to the center of the stage as the girl did before him.

He lifted his violin and his bow like the girl did.

He played the piece in a completely different way than Number 35.

The judges smiled as he played, satisfied, as always, by his perfect technique, admirable spiccato, amazing bowing. He played with no heart, but his technique made up for it. He was so faithful to the composer's wishes that it seemed as though he enjoyed it.

 _Cookie-cutter perfect._

 **xoxoxo**

The girl watched the boy after he play. She yearned to have his skills. His technique was perfect, his interpretation was amazing. He was one with talent. Talent and hard work. She bet he spent his days practicing his violin. She imagined his fingertips always blistered.

The performance ended, and she saw the audience applaud loudly, the judges stand up. She knew he had passed. He had to know he was going to go to the second round. How could one who played so beautifully not pass?

 **xoxoxo**

The two of them, done with their respectful performances, went back in the waiting rooms to put their violins back in their cases.

 **xoxoxo**

 _List of contestants: Second Selection_

 _Gray Fullbuster_

 _Lucy Heartfilia_

 _Juvia Lockser_

 _Erza Scarlet_

 _Jellal Fernandes_


	2. Contact Names

_I passed?_

 _Breathe_

 _I passed…_

 **xoxoxo**

 _She passed._

 _Calm down idiot._

 _I get to see her perform again…_

 _ **xoxoxo**_

Her sweet mother toppled Juvia over as she hugged her forcefully when her daughter walked out of the _performers only_ door.

"Sweetie you got in! Oh, I knew you could do it," the mother continued, smothering the young woman in her arms with kisses and compliments. Juvia smiled genuinely, happy she was able to help her mom get back onto her feet. Her mom was sweet and gentle, outgoing, outspoken. Surrounded by friends, men who wanted her, anything a woman could possibly want.

On the outside.

From the outside, they were a family of 3, the father traveled for his successful job, the mother supported the child and socialized, the daughter a straight-A student, musician, a little above average.

Above average in all, master in none. That was her family.

She didn't care though. She didn't mind having to wipe her mother's tears from time to time, and having to deal with stupid arguments her parents had over the phone. She pretended not to hear.

She belonged to a lucky and happy family. She enjoyed the privileges she was given. They weren't rich, but they weren't poor.

Average is good.

 **xoxoxo**

 _Average is good, but my performances cannot be average._

 _They have to leave an impression._

 _I have to make my mom happy._

 **xoxoxo**

He left the waiting room, out to the main hallway, where all the audience waited impatiently for their daughters, sons, brothers or sisters to come out of the door. Waiting to congratulate them, to console them, to tell them how amazing they were, how confident they looked on stage.

Of course, no one waited for Gray Fullbuster. He was used to it. He was used to his parents going endlessly on tour, he was used to his teacher telling him it was a given he would win every competition he would enter.

 _Child Prodigy._

He was no prodigy. He wasn't talented. People got it wrong. He was a child unfortunately born into a family of musically talented people. He was born with perfect pitch, but he was never good at using it's potential fully. Sure, he had technique. Yes, he never made mistakes.

But that wasn't talent.

It was hard work and practice. Talent didn't do you any good. It forced you to work harder to reach others' expectations.

He still glanced around the halls, a little hopeful for a familiar face, his piano teacher, a judge, anyone. Of course, he found no one. No one cares about the _one with natural musical talents._ No one actually cares about the human behind those performances. Not that he minded.

He got used to not being seen.

He was invisible.

All people saw were his violin, his technique, and his awards. His results. Results were all that mattered, judges' opinions were 100% correct at any time.

 _I'm invisible_

…

"E-excuse me? Um-" a voice called from behind. Surprised, Gray turned around, eyes wide.

Number 35. The girl with the blue hair, the girl in the navy dress. The girl who had left such an unknown impression in his mind, her performance carved into his memory. The girl who seemed to love her violin. Who thought of it as her prized possession. She enjoyed playing. She loved to go up on stage. She didn't give a damn about her results in the competition.

"I just thought that your performance was-um amazing," she complimented. Her dark blue eyes shone as she looked straight into his own. Her gaze was so straight-forward, so innocent.

"I see, I'm glad you thought so," he responded, in his usual, made-up gentle voice and smile that turned most girls into mush. Playing up the perfect character for the reporters and the judges.

"And um, I was wondering if you could teach me sometime?"

 **xoxoxo**

 _Just ask him_

 _The worst that could happen is that you never talk to each other again._

 _That's not that bad right?_

 _Actually that's pretty ba-_

"And um, I was wondering if you could teach me sometime?"

 _Idiot._

He smiled the pretty smile again, but she could see his eyes were cold. His face shone, but his eyes were stone-cold. Dark blue stones, forcefully inputted into a human body.

"I have to check with my schedule, but how about we exchange numbers so we can contact each other?" he suggested, and she delightfully agreed.

 **xoxoxo**

The second selection will be held in 5 weeks. It's a very short period of time to learn a 2 piece repertoire. It consisted of one movement from one sonata and one piece. Her sonata was Beethoven's violin sonata no.5, Op.24 _Spring,_ and her piece, _Flight of the Bumblebee_ by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. The sonata came to her quickly, with all the romantic phrases, but the piece was hard. She wasn't used to such bowings, and it was a challenge to incorporate her interpretation to the piece, it was so fast. She practiced slowly, with her metronome, she practiced the sonata as a breather, enhanced the dynamics, payed attention to her sound.

Interesting.

Passionate.

 _Pour your feelings into the performance._

 **xoxoxo**

5 weeks. To perfect the technique, perfect the tempo. Perfect it, for the judges, for the results. For the press. The journalists. The medal. To get into the next round.

 _For the girl with dark-blue eyes._

 **xoxoxo**

 _To: The Guy With The Pretty Smile_

 _Hello,_

 _I was just wondering if I could get some advice from you on the pieces we have to play for the second selection. If it's a bother, there is no need to respond, to this message, I understand you are busy. Thank you :)_

 _Juvia Lockser_

 **xoxoxo**

 _New Message From: The Girl With Dark-Blue Eyes_

 **xoxoxo**

 _To: Juvia Lockser_

 _Hello,_

 _It's no bother, if there is anything I can do for you, I will be glad to. Would you like to meet up sometime to discuss? Of course, if there is no need to see each other face to face, text messaging is fine as well._

 _Gray Fullbuster_

 **xoxoxo**

 _New Message From: The Guy With The Pretty Smile_


	3. Music is more than just ink on paper

**Author's Note:** Woohoo it's the first time I've actually written an author's note *sprinkles glitter* So, I put a quote i the story: Music is more than just ink on paper. I got it from tumblr, from [here]. I hope u guys enjoy this chapter, and tell me what u thought in the reviews, they're super fun and they make my day ;)

* * *

She wished someone could explain to her what was happening. The second selection was happening in 2 days, and she had no time to lose. She should be practicing. She should be interpreting her pieces, memorizing them. But _noo_ she _had_ to make plans with the idiotically cute guy with the mesmerizing smile.

She slapped herself in the face, hoping it would take off the foolish smirk off of her face, or better, get all of the unrealistic thoughts about him out of her imprudent mind.

Aside all the gooey stuff, she had finally gotten her piece down and perfect a few days ago, which was quite the accomplishment for her, as the _Flight of the Bumblebee_ by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov really wasn't her type of piece. Yes, she loved to play fast, but it was extremely hard to put in any vibrato, her strong suit, and all she could do during the piece was concentrate on the technique. It left no space for her own interpretation. The other song, _Spring_ by Beethoven, was her saviour. Every time she practiced it, she felt at ease and carried away by the music. Her body swayed to the piece, and she imagined the piano accompaniment playing along with her.

It doesn't matter that the guy she was meeting up with was a massive contender in the competition, right?

 **xoxoxo**

It was safe to say Gray had completed his pieces and perfected them to the point where there was no room for improvement. He was capable of bringing out the great in every piece, without realizing it. Because of how much he worked on the pieces and sonatas, he was capable of moving the audience, without inserting any emotion in his playing. From others, it seemed as though he just had a natural talent and he, himself, made it seem as though his hard work was just an addition to his "remarkable" talent. His whole life he spent lying, pretending. Pretending to be perfect, pretending to be the person others perceived him to be.

He was unemotional.

Then why was this girl with dark-blue eyes capable of making him do such things, such as going out for coffee 2 days before a selection?

 _Unemotional._

 _Invisible._

 _Hide your emotions._

 **xoxoxo**

At 3 pm sharp, on Mavis street, a girl waited. She seemed to be waiting for someone, or something, nervously checking her face in the windows, fixing up her hair, heart oddly still beating. She had no reason to be nervous, but she was.

At a few meters apart from her, a guy with dark hair walked, in her general direction. He unconsciously couldn't leave his hair alone, his mind wandered. He too, checked up on how he was looking in a glass window.

 **xoxoxo**

" Hey, sorry I'm late," Gray apologized as he walked over to her. She shook her head and told him it was completely fine, and they both entered the cafe. They ordered, took their drinks and sat down at the free two seat table. Legs and torso facing each other.

As a general rule, it was hard to talk to people you just recently met. Usually, you would make small talk, awkwardly avert gazes, and pretend you're completely comfortable with the situation.

These two, however, made no effort whatsoever to talk. They just had a normal conversation, unforced, completely natural. It helped they had an actual subject to talk about, the competition repertoire, but you could tell there was more to it than just common interests.

" You just have to focus on the sheet music, you know? I just practice over and over again until I get it right. It's the thing that works the best for me, at least," he chuckled.

He told her how he practiced, how he practiced his technique. He seemed happy, he smiled a convincing smile, and from others, he would've just been another handsome guy.

Juvia noticed.

Juvia noticed the hint of sadness there was in his voice when he talked about his violin.

She could tell, because that was how her dad had talked.

 **xoxoxo**

Time passed by quickly, their drinks empty, the clock arms now pointing at 6:00.

" I'll walk you home," he suggested, but she refused, since it was still bright outside, and she was in a completely different direction from him. They walked out of the door, and she stopped before saying goodbye. She hesitated, but decided to tell him what she had on her mind.

" Hey, before we part and say goodbye and all that, I wanted to tell you,"

" Yeah? What is it?"

" My teacher once said that music is more than just ink on paper, and I think he's right. You don't always have to get caught up on all the technique. Have fun, enjoy the audience. Hey, it's the one time you can have the attention of hundreds of people at one moment! Don't play for the judges. Play for the audience."

She ended it with a warm smile, and added,

" Thanks for all the advice, it was fun hanging out with you. See ya at the second selection!"

With that, she walked away, trying to look as confident as she hoped she sounded. In reality, as she walked away, she was blushing from ear to ear, deeply regretting what she had just said, but also congratulating herself for it. She sighed, not daring to look back.

 **xoxoxo**

Gray stood still, appalled. No girl had ever spoken so long and lectured him like that before. His perfect smile and perfect face usually kept their words to a minimum, and their flirty gazes to a maximum. They never told him to _enjoy the performances_ or to _play for the audience, not the judges._ No one ever dared to criticize his playing.

He thought to himself as he walked home, holding his empty drink in his hand. Thoughts about the selection, the repertoire, _her._

 _Her name? Juvia Lockser._

 _Her instrument of choice? Violin, but cello if she had to choose one to listen to._

 _Her personality? Cute, funny, sarcastic. Caring, loving and an amazing violinist._

 _Why were her performances so exceptional?_

 _Because she played with passion and emotion._

 **xoxoxo**

The thoughts continued on, followed him home. He played his piece and sonata once again for good measure, made himself a dinner, brushed his teeth afterwards. Showered, dried his hair, and flopped onto his bed. He followed his daily schedule, a perfect cookie cutter itinerary to fit in all the practice he had to do.

He followed his schedule, but he couldn't get _her_ out of his mind.

 **xoxoxo**

 _One day until the second selection._


	4. Sorrow and Joy

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! Sorry this update took so long, I wanted to post it last week but I didn't get the chance to! I hope u enjoy this chapter, I introduced a new ship hehe :) Don't forget to leave me a review if u liked it, I always love reading them and it motivates me to write more!

* * *

 _Day of the second selection._

She sat with her violin in hand, nervously but excitedly anticipating her number to be called over. She was, as always, number 35. In this selection, 2 violinists were playing before her. If her memory was still working as she hoped, their names were Erza Scarlet and Jellal Fernandes.

In the same waiting room as Juvia sat another young maiden. Her beautiful red hair cascaded down her shoulders, he bangs pinned to the side, probably so it wouldn't go into her eyes while she was playing. Juvia didn't recall this gorgeous teenager from the first selection, but she assumed that it was because she was way too nervous to pay attention to any of her surroundings.

The two sat, quietly, waiting.

"Erza Scarlet, number 14, is called upon the stage. Erza Scarlet?"

 **xoxoxo**

Erza nervously stood up and walked over to the door where the man in the suit held the door open for her. As she did so, she looked over slightly at the girl who had sat in front of her, the one with the blue hair and big eyes. She seemed friendly, but she wasn't thinking about making friends at this competition, since she was too occupied revising the repertoire in her head. The only sign of nervosity this maiden showed was her hand desperately clenching the neck of her violin, since showing weakness was a nono, when it came to competitions.

Started the piano at 4, switched to violin at 5, started competitions at age 8. Placed 2nd place, 3rd, occasionally 4th. Good enough, but never the best. Her performances excellent, but never breath-taking.

She could hear them speaking.

 _Such a shame._

 _She has so much potential._

 **xoxoxo**

The world of competitions and music is never just fun and play. The excruciating practices, the nauseating unsuccessful performances.

Once in awhile though, they do come along.

The performances that leave no regret, the ones you know you aced. The ones that are engraved in the memories of the performer as well as the audience. Those are the performances that keep these musicians going, even in times of suffering and nausea.

 **xoxoxo**

Jellal wasn't nervous. He wasn't in the least. He had his pieces down, and the judges didn't know who he was here. There was no pre-judgement, he didn't have a reputation here, in this city. No reason for the judges to judge him for things other than his performance. His violin was the only thing that mattered. Nothing else. Number 15 had left his country for a reason.

That reason however,

was one he would never tell.

 **xoxoxo**

Now on stage, number 14. Backstage, number 15 and number 35. Number 36 stayed in his waiting room, watching the performances from the monitor set up in his room.

4 judges.

5 performances.

3 spots available for the final selection.

 **xoxoxo**

Erza was now on stage, just with her and her violin. Well yes, her pianist sat behind her, but in her mind, all she could see was her violin, the empty space on stage. All she could hear was her heart beating, fast and excited. Her sonata was Beethoven's violin sonata no.8 in G major opus 30 no.3. She was playing the movement Allegro assai, movement 1.

She confidently placed her instrument on her shoulder, brought her bow up, and took a sharp inhale to signal the pianist.

The first part sweet and light, she played the legato, adding vibrato, defining the bowing. She played this part with joy, passion. She made sure to bring out tension at parts modulating in minor, carefully showing emotion in each part, yet combining perfect technique to get enough points. The ones who didn't remember her name before now knew her full name and number by heart. The judges, well, they loved it. By the end of the sonata, the audience was roaring with applause, seemingly forgetting that she had yet another piece to play.

 _Look, Erza._

 _They love it._

 _They're clapping for you._

 **xoxoxo**

Number 15 stood behind the curtains now, and when number 14 finished her performance, he knew it was over. He couldn't be welcomed by a worse audience. They were all focused on the performance that had taken place right before him.

 _Erza Scarlet._

Worse, he had the same repertoire as that musically gifted idiot, Gray Fullbuster.

Sure, he hadn't been nervous at all before the performance. He knew he had practiced enough to impress the judges, but this was uncalled for. He didn't even remember the redhaired competitor before. He hadn't even been worried about her taking away his audience. He was in the worst possible situation, with the worst possible audience.

As he thought to himself, number 14 left the stage, leaving that hollow space in the center for him. She was smiling from ear to ear, not even noticing the presence of Jellal. They called his number, and he forced his legs to move, to fill the empty space on the stage.

 _It's the same as the other competitions._

 _It's the same._

 _Who knows, maybe they know you come from there._

 _Maybe they've known ever since setting eyes on his name._

 _Maybe they know I come from the tower._

 **xoxoxo**

His performance was painful to watch. Juvia was observing from behind the scenes, but she felt pain and tremendous sorrow as he played. More than anyone she had seen before. Not because the performance was bad, neither because of the audience unaccepting of his playing. The way he played, the way he moved his bow across the strings. The way he played his double stops. Full of sorrow, empty of joy. It was as if he knew something he didn't want to know. As if this performance was his death sentence.

 _Violin Sonata No.9, Op.47, Kreutzer._

 **xoxoxo**

You see, the pressure on a performer to do well is incomparable. To not make mistakes, no blank memories. Perfection is all. The judge's eyes seemingly completely focused on you, only you. The audience listening intently to all of your slight mistakes.

Why do we keep going up on stage?

For some, it's because it's the only thing they can do.

For others, it may be because they are forced to.

For number 35, it was because she loved performing, and because she loved her violin.

 **xoxoxo**

" _Number 35 is called upon the stage. Number 35."_

 _Breathe_


End file.
